


Frozen

by saviorbrother



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saviorbrother/pseuds/saviorbrother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's snowing in Virginia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frozen

—-  
Its snowing in Virginia. Not too heavily yet, but heavy enough that Dean is coming home from work early before it gets to be too much.  
Dad left them here to give them a break. Dad and Dean had hunted kitsunes three weeks ago, one of which Sam had kissed and let live, and had been on the road constantly. This was a mini vacation. 

In the middle of a snow storm.

Sam opted to put on some thigh highs. Thin, white things, pure as new snow that made his growing legs look even longer.  
He had bought them a week ago to match the rest of his white outfit.

Looking in the mirror, legs looking long and lean in the fabric, he knew he had to put the whole thing on.  
Drops his black basketball shorts and plaid boxers, stripping off his white tee; all of it falling to the floor in a heap.

Dean would love him naked except for the thigh highs on, maybe his hair messy and face red. Sam laughs at the idea, at Dean’s reaction.  
It’s a nice change of scenery from the baggy clothes, all his assets hidden. All the girls at fast stations and fast food places thinking Dean was single. Thought his little brother in his over sized shirts, stiff denim, bulky boots, and bags under his eyes.

He takes the carefully folded clothes from the bottom of his duffle and dresses in front of the mirror, wind blowing hard outside.  
Pulls on the white leotard, tight to show the long line of his body, his back out, long sleeves. His soft cock and his balls cradled in the crotch area. He bends down to pick up the short skirt, white, too.

Steps into it and pulls it up, zips it on the side.

He looks back at his reflection shyly at first. Spins slowly to get a full view of himself.  
Innocently hot. He shakes his hair to the side, bags gone from a good nights sleep, lips already a ruddy red.  
He bites his lip on an excited smile, covered toes digging into the cream colored carpet.  
》》》

When Dean does come into the room, Sam is up on the wooden table in the middle of it all, swinging his feet back and forth.  
His brother doesn’t notice him till he closes the door and looks up. Hair riddled with snowflakes, eyelashes, too.  
"Uh?" Stupidly comes out of Dean’s plush mouth, face turning even redder.  
"Surprised?" Sam smiles at him.  
He takes his older brother in. The leather jacket that does nothing to help his face or head in the cold, red flannel, dark jeans, and his boots.  
"C’mere, Dean," Sam purrs, blood rushing to his face.  
He does as he’s told, shuffling forward on the carpet towards Sam. Sam dressed in all white, beauty.  
He tries to get between those legs, but a lacy foot stops him by the shoulder.  
"Don’t be mean, baby. Been good for three weeks, let you kiss that girl while we were hunting that kitsune," Dean comments while reaching up to massage the arch of Sam’s foot.  
"You told me to try out being ‘normal’," Sam smirks, head falling back.  
"Let’s try out being freaky," Dean growls, leaning forward to nip at the long expnase of pale neck.  
Sam doesn’t hesitate, laughing, to pull his brother forward by the hair, foot slipping over his shoulder so he can press against the table to get to him better.  
Dean’s lips to his are unrelenting, fierce to get his tongue inside Sam’s mouth. Strong, warm hands squeeze their way up nylon covered calves and thighs greedily.  
Sam opens up his mouth, Dean’s tongue fitting right inside, other leg wrapping around Dean’s waist.  
"Mh, sweetest thing ever," Dean whispers into his lips, "Won’t ever get enough."  
Sam gasps when Dean tugs him to the end of the table, skirt doing nothing to shield his brothers erection from digging into his ass crack.  
"Bad, aren’t you? You’re gonna let me pull this lil’ thing to the side and push my cock right up into you," Dean sighs into his ear, breath warm.  
Sam grunts, tugging at snow covered hair, pushing his ass into the humping of Dean’s hips.  
Rough fingers dig between them, pulls at the thin material covering his ass and yanking it across a cheek.  
"Go ahead. Right now, Dean. Ready for that dick," Sam burns red, trying to be confident in his words.  
He cups the hard line of his brother’s hard on, massaging it.  
Dean pants harshly, barely listening. A finger clumsily goes to press to Sam’s entrance and it slips right in.  
"S-sam?" Dean gasps, pulling back to look down with shocked green eyes.  
"I knew we couldn’t handle the hassle of prep, so I did it before you got here," Sam nods, bites his lip.  
His hands fumble to jerk Dean’s jeans open and get him out, hard and damp. Dean looks down, disbelieving that this is his life.  
"What are you waiting for?" Sam smirks, lays back on the table, easy.  
Skirt up and leotard pulled to the side to expose him. The foot on his shoulder and ass pull him forward slowly.  
"Been working all week, in the cold, went to work in the snow. You deserve something good, Dean," Sam whispers.  
"This ain’t just good, baby," Dean licks his lips.

He pulls Sam a bit more the edge again, rough and smooth by his creamy thighs, and guides himself inside.  
His eyes flutter closed when the tip breaches the damp heat, scrambling to keep the leotard to the side, stitching protesting.

"Y-you’re gonna b-break the gotdamn th-thing!" Sam squirms, eyes closed and face a bright red.  
"I think the way I’m breaking your ass in for me is more important," Dean strains, balls deep.

Sweat slides down his back, hasn’t gotten the chance to take off his jacket.  
He grabs at the inner thigh of the leg up on his shoulder before pulling back out, throwing his head back as they both groan.

"Do me already," Sam whimpers.

Dean tugs Sam’s dick out from its confines before bring that hand down on his stomach, spreading it wide.  
The pull out has him shuddering. He can feel Sam stretching for him, gasping.

"Oh, man," he trembles, thrusting faster, pulling both of Sam’s legs onto his shoulders and gripping them hard.  
The steady pitch of his hips forward is good, hole sucking Dean’s dick in wonderfully, sweat slicking his body.

"Maybe one—one day you’ll get to feel somthin’ like this," Dean breathes, hooded eyes watching Sam.

The tiny jolts of his lean body on the wooden table, skirt flipped up and crotch of his leotard pulled to the side.

"Pull down the top of that thing, I wanna see those pretty nipples," Dean bites his lip against a lewd smile.

He watches Sam pant as he pulls at the sleeves, shaking. And Dean fucks deep and slow, leaning forward a bit like he isn’t already balls deep in the show.  
And when Sam looks away shyly, pulling the fabric down to his tummy, revealing hard nipples Dean loses it.

He shoots forward, bending Sam in half to get at the tight buds of flesh, to suck the left one into his hot mouth.

"Ah! Dean, yeah. L-like that," Sam squirms and arches underneath Dean.

His hips pull back only to slam forward, tops of his thighs pounding into the table top in a way that should be painful.  
But its not, his tongue is licking wetly over Sammy’s little nipples, hands gripping at soft flesh and ripping at the thigh highs, nylon breaking as he fucks with abandon.

"Tell me, baby. Everythin’," Dean rasps out drunkenly, breath puffing over Sam’s chest.

Sam cries out loudly, legs trying to kick away and move with the bouts of pleasure. He can’t speak, can’t breathe with the way Dean pulls out to the tip and slams back inside to the base too quickly. His neck strains as he keeps in a scream, the creaking and cracking of the table already loud enough.

"Feel so fuckin’ dirty, letting you fuck me on the table in my outfit," Sam sobs out, pulling Dean’s head closer to his chest, his big brothers breath coming harsh through his nose as he nips and bites at the abused nipple.

"Mhm, mhm," Dean answers, reedy. His balls ache for release, cock sloppily spilling precome inside Sam.

It’s not his fault he might come early. Sammy’s been moody and distant, Dean has missed him. And this is what he gets when he comes home in the middle of a snow storm, his baby dressed up for him in these got damn high sock-stocking thingies that make that breaking sound when Dean pulls at them, and the skirt and this body suit thingy, whatever, he loves it all.

"Take this off, need it—off," Sam begs, tugging at Dean’s leather jacket.  
Dean doesn't even stop, keeps his mouth sucking hard at his sweet tits, keeps fucking Sam. Just lets go of his legs to rip of the jacket and drop it.

"Sam, soon," Dean warns, leaning up to kiss at Sam’s slack lips, too busy being loud.  
"Give it to me, fuckin’ cream me," Sam answers, raunchy as he tugs at Dean’s hair.

Dean ends up ripping the sock-stocking thingies completely when he hears that. There’s gonna be bruises the size of his fingers in a few hours.

"Sam, Sammy," Dean puts his face into Sam’s sweaty neck, feels the thumping of his pulse as he pounds into tight heat.  
His little brother sobs thinly, hands frantically tugging up Dean’s shirts to dig his fingers into his skin, burning with the desperate scratches.

"Dean," a cry and the rhythmic tightening of Sam’s hole is the only sign he gets of him coming undone, hot release spurting between their bodies.

His little brothers says his name, voice so high he can barely hear it over his own breath and the howling wind as he chases his release.

"Please, Dean. Just give it to me," Sam whispers in his ear, cradling his head to his chest, other hand still digging into his back.  
"Yeah, yeah," Dean answers, strained.  
He thrusts erratically before his muscles lock up and he shouts, eyes slamming shut as he shoots deep and thick into Sam.  
"Sam, oh God," he breathes, grinding deep, balls seizing almost painfully.

His weight falls down on Sam completely when he’s finally spent.  
Sam holds him, legs wrapping around him completely.  
Blood rushes out his ears, that pounding gone as he turns his face to mouth at Sam’s jaw softly.

"I like those sock-stocking thingies," he giggles, hoarse.  
"Thigh highs, Dean. Thigh highs," Sam answers with a chuckle, fingers scritch-scratching at Dean’s scalp.  
"And you asked me how to talk to girls. You know all about ‘em, sweetheart," Dean whispers, more tired then anything.  
"Shut up," Sam kisses his temple.  
Dean’s an ass so he falls asleep on top of him, cuddled in warmth.


End file.
